On the Nature of Daylight
by latibule
Summary: The year is 1943. Emilia Rösner, a former combat nurse and Agent for the British, is just back from the war and assigned a short assignment as a Liaison officer for the 506th Airborne Infantry – unbeknownst to her, however, she's just started on a path from which there's no return, and such is a path that is much closer to home than ever she could have imagined. (Eventual paring)
1. Prologue

_On the Nature of Daylight_

PROLOGUE

...

"What the _hell_ do you think you're doing?" Sharp words cut across the air, made thick by tension, and his hand wrapped tight about her arm. She tried to pull away, but it was to little avail – he was stronger than she was, and no amount of pulling or pushing could change that fact. He was a soldier in every sense of the word, and if there were no war he still would be, for it was in his nature; one could use a pistol as a paperweight, but it would remain just as deadly no matter. "You're going to get yourself killed. Is that what you want?"

"What I _want_ is for you to let me go." Came her reply, a simple slip of tongue spilling harsher notions than intended. In the broader sense of the question, she had little idea what she wanted – was it death, or rectification? Or, perhaps, with one came the other. But, in that moment, there was no time to lend her thoughts to theories, for all around shells were exploding and death, death, death.

"_Let me go,_" she pleaded again, desperation slipping into a voice that had once held such strength.

The tight grip lessened, but only marginally and out of the mere worry he had in hurting her – hurting her was not his intention, but neither was it to let her leave. "I won't," he responded at length, pulling her so her face was inches from his own. "I'd sooner take a bullet myself than watch you run out into open fire. Are you mad?"

"I'm not going to die," she retorted, only half believing the words. "I'm leaving, and you're _not_ going to stop me." The words were accentuated with another pull from his grasp, but it did little more than accent her words. In her grief she'd gone mad, and it seemed a small price to pay: a few moments of physical pain to end years upon years of emotional. In her haste, should be struck down… why, there was little protest to the idea. The future looked so bleak, and fear had taken grasp on her heart for the first time since she'd left Poland – she no longer recognised herself.

"You wouldn't make it out of here, let alone another thousand kilometres on your own." He shot back, wanting to at least pierce the wall she'd built up. "And if they catch you? You'd be shot—"

"Don't—"

"You'd leave the men?" He asked, effectively knocking all the fight from her already weary bones, and all it had taken were four words. Four words, and she was rendered completely speechless. A look of satisfaction flashed across his dark eyes, and at long last, he released the grip on her arm – it felt colder in his hand's absence, and her hand rose instinctively to rub where it had been. He remained close to her, studying her conflicted features before speaking once more: "Go on. Make your choice then, Emilia. I'm not going to stop you."

...

Happy Veteran's Day to all who have fought for their countries, and to those who continue to do so.

Author's Note: I'm a sucker for mysterious prologues, what can I say? I know none of this makes sense, but please rest assured that it will all come together soon. I'll be posting the first chapter immediately after this, in fact. More to the point of this author's note, however, I've read some pretty amazing stories on here and they inspired me to take a shot at writing for both an era I love, and a story that never ceases to move me. I'd like to give special thanks to user finnobhair for encouraging me to write this in the first place, so thank you very much!

Disclaimer: I have nothing but respect for the men of the 506th, and in writing this story I wish only to broaden my creative horizons, not claim ownership over the true heroes in any way, shape, or form. Thank you for reading!


	2. Chapter I

Chapter I

_Assimilation_

"And the danger is that in this move toward new horizons and far directions, that I may lose what I have now, and not find anything except loneliness." Silvia Plath

On the Nature of Daylight

Aldbourne, England

10 October 1943

The journey to Aldbourne hadn't been long, nor had it been a particularly strenuous one, but it had given her time to think – or to try not to.

She'd driven in from London in the later hours of the night, the dusk eventually fading into a darkness that settled over the English village not long before she'd arrived. She turned off of the main road by the parish church, navigating slowly through the unsealed road, her eyes adjusting to the heavier darkness. There hadn't been any other cars since she'd gotten off the M4, and in the absence of any visible life she felt an eeriness settle over her. Once daylight made it's ascent over the town, she knew it would be full to the brim with soldiers and civilians alike, but as she drove then it seemed a deserted, lonely place. Perhaps it would remain the same even when there were people about.

She saw the outline of two houses at the end of the road, and recognised the smaller of the two as the one she'd been quartered at. Both lay dark; there were no lights anywhere, save the shine of her headlights. She parked on the street, sighing once as she removed the keys from the ignition. When she stepped out of the car, she made sure not to slip on the dew, and trod carefully as she moved back and forth between car and house, emptying the boot of the two suitcases she'd brought along.

Her hosts weren't home, and would not be for a few days still, she'd been told they were visiting family elsewhere in Wiltshire. She was glad for it, though, her late arrival would have woken up them up if not the unpacking that came afterwards. Still, it would have been nice to be received, but most nice things were too much to ask for these days. A note had been left on a small, wooden table for her though:

_Miss Emilia — make yourself at home._

– _H&C_

That was as far as her welcome had gone.

The neighbouring house was little more than a silent shadow, looming in the night beyond the light where she had been walking. Emilia felt as if she'd been dropped into a world of absolute silence and solitariness. And that night, as she lay in a bed where her body was as unfamiliar as a round peg in a square hole, in a house that didn't know her yet (and likely never would), she felt as if she were absolutely nowhere at all.

—

Across the small threshold, a man stood looking out the window and down upon the new arrival. His own house was kept in darkness, too, dark and warm as the couple that hosted him kept the house well heated. If not for the clear, night's sky he wouldn't have been able to see much, just the two yellow eyes of the windows across the field. He didn't usually entertain himself by gazing out windows, the view didn't hold much for him, and after the stretching days of training all he ever wanted to do was collapse into the bed and find peace for however long he could.

Yet there he was, by the window, intently watching the movements of the figure in the darkness. He'd expected the arrival, hearing of it in passing when in the company of higher-ranking individuals than himself, but he was taken aback by his own reaction. The fact that he was there, by the window, watching.

He knew nothing more about his new neighbour than what he'd heard around brass and what he'd been able to observe just then: a young woman, short—or, not tall. Twenty or twenty-five, perhaps? He wasn't so good at telling ages. Slim figure, with curly dark hair. She wouldn't last long if she was as delicate as she looked, that much was a surety, but he wouldn't bother himself with thinking on it anymore than that. His curiosity was sated with that small glimpse; anything more was merely a distraction.

For now.

—

_The next day…_

"Colonel Sink, sir, I hope you've brought this young lady into our presence for a better purpose than subjecting her to the outrageous behaviour of _Private Gordon_." Herbert Sobel's voice rang loud and sharp, his scrutinising eyes burning holes into the figure of the private he'd called out, who stood tall beside his fellow paratroopers, despite the attempt at shame his commanding officer had issued. It was an impressive sight, for men were so often creatures of pride, their deepest wounds being to the dignity they were so often nurtured into having, but such seemed not the case here.

These were not men, but paratroopers – all other titles came after that one.

"We won't keep you long, Captain. Now," The Colonel began, drinking in the sight of his men, pride gleaming behind his eyes. "I know you all men here are tired, still getting used to the way things run around here, and I've gotta say that I'm damn proud of you boys for the way you've been handling this. Assimilating into a new culture is a hard thing to do, but I've got the highest confidence that you will all continue to do so with no error. That being said, I've got one more thing for you all to take note of…" The Colonel paused, heavy boots clunking against the dirt as he moved to the side, arm outstretched toward the woman he'd approached with. "This, here, is Agent Rösner. The British have understandably taken an interest in the best damn companies the 506th can offer, so I expect more of the same, boys. Let's show our hosts just how good we are." Shifting attention from men to woman, Sink looked at their newest addition expectantly, communicating without words that this was, now, her turn to say something.

Hesitation could be easily understood, especially on the part of a woman thrown suddenly in the mix with men she did not know or understand, but despite the uncertainty in speaking so suddenly and without real warning, she stepped forward and rose to the challenge. This assignment may not have been one she necessarily wanted nor welcomed with open arms, but it would be one she'd execute with the same dedication she dictated to all her work.

"Gentlemen," she started, "I'm Agent Rösner and I'll be overseeing all operations for this battalion, acting both as your liaison and intelligence officer. I'm looking forward to working with all of you and informing my supervisor's of, as the Colonel stated, the finest company in the 506th." She nodded, eyes meeting Sink's once again in recognition that she'd finished, missing the few smiles shared between some of the men in E-company.

"Carry on, Captain Sobel." He saluted the Captain, then his men, before leading the agent on to where D-company was training. It was only when they were a few paces from E-company's location that he spoke, beneath his breath and with the slightest hint of a smile: "I think you'll fit in here just fine, Agent."

—

The canteen was nearly full to the brim with soldiers, all shuffling past one another with low grunts of acknowledgment as they made their ways to the tables, all focused mainly on the hunger that had been building inside them from the moment they'd finished digesting breakfast.

Bill Guarnere regarded his plate of food with a sneer, lips curled at the minced meat he'd not yet grown accustomed to. The aversion rolled off his shoulders with ease, however, remembering both the words of the Colonel ("Assimilating into a new culture is a hard thing to do, but I've got the highest confidence that you will all continue to do so with no error.") and the bitter truth that, once the invasion came rolling around the corner and his sorry ass was in Europe somewhere, he'd be _wishing_ he had grub like this in his stomach.

"I just don't see why we've gotta have her around," His tongue clucked against the roof of his mouth, and he followed closely behind the form of Joseph Toye, both making way to their company tables. "Makes no sense to me."

"Nothing makes sense to you." Came Joe's response, regarding his friend with half of a grin as they sat beside their other comrades.

"I thought you'd like havin' a skirt around, Guarnere." Chuck Grant chuckled, popping a pea into his mouth while regarding the other men with a grin.

"Are you kiddin' me? His mouth is open enough as it is without some pretty dame dropping it even farther to the ground." Don Malarkey said, sitting down with an audible 'oof' across from Toye.

"Hey, it ain't got nothing to do with her bein' a _her_, alright?" Guarnere stated, after giving Malarkey a rough shove on the shoulder. "I just don't like it—don't trust it; the British sendin' in some spy to check up on our work. What? Do they not trust us to do our fuckin' job or somethin'?"

"She's not a spy." David Webster sighed from across the table, eyes swimming with vexation, as he put down the book that had been previously keeping his attention – his own fault to try and read in the company of his comrades. "The British have been in this war longer than us, and they've invested a lot in it. It makes sense that they'd want a liaison officer here, we're _allies_. Besides, you're all worked up over the British _supposedly _not trusting us, when you don't even trust them."

"David fuckin' Webster, always the voice of reason." Joe Liebgott added in, shoving the blue-eyed man slightly, whereupon they both dissolved into banter.

"Well, I think she's real nice." Darrel Powers said, washing down his mince with a cup of water. "Got the sweetest smile I seen since I was back in Clinchco."

"Keep it in your pants, Shifty." Luz grinned, mussing up the rifleman's hair.

"Rösner, though? Ain't that a Kraut name?" Penkala spoke up.

"Ain't Penkala an idiot name?" Muck said, fondly.

"Alright, alright, alright, _listen_," Guarnere put his fork down. "We already got Sobel jumpin' down our necks, so if they want to know whether or not we work well under pressure I think it's safe to say that we fuckin' do. Look, if higher-ups wanted to send someone in here to check up on us, at the very least, couldn't they have sent us an _American _liaison officer? Huh?" He looked at the other men expectantly.

Webster had begun to piece together his reply – most likely reaffirming the prior point that he had made about allies and the like – but he quickly closed his mouth once more, picking up his book and hiding his face behind it.

"Perhaps," came a voice from behind them. "It was accredited to the fact that they wanted the job done _right_, Staff Sergeant." Joe Toye and Bill Guarnere both turned slowly, addressing the new voice with similar expressions – akin, maybe, to a child getting caught with his or her hand in the cookie jar.

Emilia Rösnerwas stood with her hands on her hips, regarding Guarnere with a stare that was quite far from impressed – though, beneath the surface, it could be argued that there lay just the slightest hint of amusement.

There was utter silence.

"Ma'am." Toye nodded toward her in clipped greeting, turning back to face his comrades with an expression that so clearly expressed his wish for death. He wasn't too keen on being on the collective shit lists of all his superior officers, especially not before they'd even seen any action.

"Didn't mean no offense, Queen Victoria." Guarnere said, gruffly, earning a prolonged "oh" from Warren Muck and Alex Penkala, of which had been silenced rather swiftly with a glare from the woman. The other men kept their heads down though, in the same mind of Joe for the most part – Rösnerwas subordinate to Sink and to Sink alone. They weren't too fond to see where her ruffled feathers could and would land them.

She arched a singular brow at the man, bending to eye level without having missed a beat. "That'll be _Your Majesty _to you, _Gonorrhoea_." The words parted from red lips in an irritable timbre, yet it was quickly replaced with a wry smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. Straightening her back, the Agent nodded toward the other men, before turning on her heel and walking out of the canteen doors.

There was a low whistle upon her departure, from on of the Able Company boys, and then things were back to being just as they had been a few moments earlier. Guarnere turned back to his company, a crooked grin splitting his face.

"Ain't so bad at all, that limey."

—

It was not until the late afternoon that Emilia was, at last, able to break away from the stuffy offices and chatter of Battalion Headquarters. Since she'd arrived, she'd been longing to walk through the rolling hills and green lands Aldbourne had to offer, for in her life she was so often surrounded by more urban settings. Then, as she walked through the open air in the village, she felt as though it was the first time in years that she'd been able to properly fill her lungs with fresh air. One couldn't find much fresh air in London, it was tainted always with fumes of some kind, nor had there been any to speak of in her previous home. But, she dared not think of that. This was meant to be a relaxing walk, one to clear her mind—not furthermore clutter it with thoughts better left unbothered.

She stopped her gait upon reaching a bunch of trees, reaching into her coat's pocket to find her cigarette case. Emilia had been trying to quit smoking so much, using it only as a stress relief rather than a social gesture, but with times of late that seemed to make no difference at all; she was more stressed than she was social. Pulling the polished, silver case out of the pocket, she opened it to acquire the stick, but found her hand stilled suddenly by the sound of combat boots and muffled shouted.

Well, if the Germans had chosen now to invade, that would certainly be awkward.

She stepped behind the greenery, securing the cigarette behind her ear and hiding herself from the incoming platoon—it wouldn't have been such a terrible thing for them to see her, of course, but her first instinct had been to hide away. If she were to put more thought into that, perhaps she would learn something about herself, but that action would have gone directly against her wish to _not think about anything. _Peeking through the gaps in the trees, she recognised the men as Easy Company's first platoon. _No invasion today, then._

"Perconte, Sobel's lost again right?" Skinny spoke first, or at least she thought it was Sisk. She usually prided herself on her ability to learn names quickly, but there were just so many names to remember when it came to Easy Company alone, not to mention the rest of second battalion.

Perconte confirmed, and Skinny swore. "Hey Luz! Luz, c'mere," he called out, and not soon after the technician ran up to meet the huddled group of men. Perconte had a conspiratorial grin in place, and Emilia's eyes narrowed. "Can you do Major Horton?"

"Does a wild bear crap in the woods, son?"

The men all laughed, though in a hushed kind of manner, and Emilia herself even found herself grinning. She'd yet to meet Major Horton—last she heard, he was in London, but judging from the reaction from the men she could only assume that the imitation was accurate.

"Maybe the good Major can goose this schmuck; get us moving?" Perconte suggested, and Emilia's expression fell.

George shifted uncomfortably. "No. No way, I'm not gonna—"

Muck interrupted him, "Oh yeah! Luz, you gotta. C'mon." The other men joined in on the encouragements, shoving and whispering, all nearly vibrating with anticipation, desperate both to get moving once more and fool their commanding officer.

"Alright," Luz broke off with a grin. "Just this once. Shh!"

Emilia was, admittedly, rather surprised at this turn of events. She wondered what Captain Sobel had done, to make the men despise him so. In her few dealings with the man, he'd been perfectly cordial, though she doubted he would have treated her with any amount of disregard even if he wanted to. But whatever predisposition they had with the man was of little importance in the grand scheme of things – they may not have liked him particularly, but it could not be argued that he'd shaped some of the best soldiers she'd seen thus far in the war.

Luz cleared his throat, preparing himself for the ruse on their Captain, and Emilia found herself quite invested in seeing how this played out. Surely they would be caught, wouldn't they? Sobel couldn't be so easy to fool… yet, the fact that they would try something in the first place, plus the unfortunate truth of their being lost on a training exercise, seemed to suggest that it was possible.

"Is there a problem, Captain Sobel?" His voice rang out, and Emilia silently moved from her position to peek out on the other end, catching sight of Captain Sobel and two other men in the near distance.

"Who said that? Who broke silence?" Sobel shouted, thereafter speaking quieter with one of the men he was with—his runner, she guessed, Tipper.

"What is the goddamn holdup, Mister Sobel?" Luz – or Horton – spoke again, and the men all seemed to be struggling greatly with keeping their silence.

"A fence, sir, a—_god_. A barbed wire fence, sir!"

"Oh, that dog just ain't gonna hunt!" Emilia put a hand over her mouth, struggling to withhold the laugh that had bubbled up in her throat. The other men, too, couldn't quite remain silent at that comment, and Luz broke his character momentarily to hush his comrades. "Now, you cut that fence and get this _goddamn _platoon on the move!"

"Yes, sir!" Emilia exhaled slowly, not having realised she'd been holding her breath in the first place. She couldn't believe that it had worked, and furthermore she was struggling to reason why she'd _allowed_ it to happen in the first place. But, there she stood, with absolutely no inclination to tell any of the superior officers about what she'd just witnessed. It shouldn't have been such a surprise to her, the insubordination; after all they certainly weren't the first men in the war to play a harmless trick on their superior officer, and they wouldn't be the last.

She peeked through the trees once more, watching the men all whisper victorious amongst one another. Their apparent pride gave her an idea – a trick of her own, really. Grinning to herself, she took the cigarette from behind her ear and placed it between her lips, flicking on the lighter and holding it close to her face as she emerged from her hiding place. Almost immediately did the chatter died down, and the men all looked between themselves with similar expressions of horror – that, in itself, was almost enough to make her laugh. _Almost_.

She walked along the line of men, not sparing any of them a glance as she blew out the smoke from her fag. Once she'd made it to the front of their formation, Emilia looked at both Perconte and Luz, a smirk on her lips. "Impressive." And, then she walked away. The two men stared after her, both with similar feelings of dread building up in their stomachs.

"We're fucked, ain't we?" Perconte said at last.

"We're fucked."

—

Emilia's conscious had, eventually, gotten the better of her despite her better judgement. She was waiting outside one of the offices at Battalion HQ, waiting to catch sight of Captain Sobel—he was meant to be meeting with Colonel Strayer soon on a matter that she only assumed would be the local's outrage at their cows now roaming freely sans their barbed wire fence. There was a part of her that pitied the man, as she so often saw him on his own rather than in the company of his fellow soldiers. Positions in leadership were often a lonely setting, and it tugged at her heart to think of anyone being treated poorly so far from home.

She sprung up from the bench when she saw him nearing the building, and nodded towards him to get his attention. "Captain Sobel."

"Miss Rösner." She bit her cheek, pushing down the urge to correct him with her proper title. _Agent. It's Agent Rösner. _

"I wanted to speak to you about your men," she began, walking alongside him as he went in to the building. "It won't take very long, but I believe it has relev—"

"Excuse my brevity," he cut her off, stopping in the entrance of HQ, and his tone was obviously uninterested in whatever it was she had to say. "But I've got a meeting of importance with Colonel Strayer in a few minutes and I don't have time for this. I think it's all very well that you're here, Miss Rösner, I know it's difficult for women to feel useful during wartime, but I can handle my men just fine without the opinion of an outside source—much less that of a woman."

Emilia felt as though she'd just been slapped across the face. The blatant disregard was one thing, but the dismissal of her sex? "How d—"

"Who was the idiot that cut that man's fence?" Strayer's irate voice cut Emilia off, which was probably for the best as the words about to leave her mouth were less than professional.

Sobel snapped to attention, "I was ordered to, sir."

"By who?"

"Major Horton, sir."

"Major Horton?" Strayer repeated, looking almost amused as they both walked out and away from the building, where cows were littered across the landscape. "Major Horton ordered you to do that?"

"Yes, sir."

"Major _Horton _ordered you to cut that fence?" Strayer questioned once more, and Sobel looked thoroughly annoyed.

"Yes, he did."

"Major Horton is on leave. In London." Strayer said, and Emilia recognised that as the perfect moment for her to cut in and explain what had actually happened. But, she didn't. If anything, she was actually a little glad for the insolence in the man, otherwise she would never have been granted the pleasure of seeing him catch hell for the incident with the fence. It was a petty pleasure, yes, and a better woman would have been able to see the error in her closed lips, but despite that all, all she could do was smirk to herself as Sobel contemplated this strange turn of events.

"Get those cows out of here!"

The Blue Boar, Aldbourne

17 October 1943

The air within the pub had been thick with smoke, putrid too with the heavy scent of alcohol and greasy food. October 17th marked the one-month anniversary of the Airborne's time in Aldbourne, and Colonel Sink had arranged for the Blue Boar to host a celebration of sorts for his men.

The public house was usually an establishment of sorts, reserved for officers only while the enlisted men had to find their way to other pub in town. Consequently, the NCO's of the 506th were thrilled to finally be there. Agent Rösner, on the other hand, was not. There was a short list of things she disliked more than being around intoxicated soldiers, understandably, for they so often were crude and obnoxious in that state. If it had it not been for the personal invitation from Sink, she'd be tucked into bed with a nice cup of tea. But, such was not the case, and there she was.

"Drinking alone?" Emilia looked over her shoulder, seeing the smiling faces of Muck and Luz. "We can't have that."

"Just because a woman is sitting alone, Sergeant Muck, doesn't entail that she's waiting for a man to join her." She responded, coolly, swirling around the whiskey in her glass. "I prefer drinking alone."

"That's kind of depressing, actually," Muck responded with his usual air of sarcasm. "Were you aware that this is a celebration?" At the sight of Emilia's glare, he held up his hands apologetically – though his grin was just as insufferable as it had been when he started talking.

George clapped the other man on the shoulder, moving to lean against the counter beside Emilia. "We won't keep you too long. Just wanted to convey our thanks for not sayin' anything about what happened a few days ago. Thought we'd buy you a drink, that's—"

"What happened?"

"What?"

She grinned. "What do you mean, 'about what happened a few days ago?'"

Muck and Luz looked at each other, sharing a silent question. Muck cleared his throat, feeling awkward in explaining what he thought to be obvious. "I— what you saw, when we were training with Sobel. You didn't say anything about us imitating—…"

She rolled her eyes, the meaning of her question clearly going over their heads. "No, I—was trying to be elusive about it, as in acting as though it never happened, which was a wise choice considering Captain Sobel is a few feet away from us."

"What?" They spoke in unison, and she laughed lightly, watching them both whip their heads around to catch view of Sobel—who, luckily, wasn't paying the least amount of attention to their conversation.

"I hope bullets fly over your heads as easily as common sense, boys."

Luz breathed out a sigh of relief. "You're alright, slim."

"_Slim_? I thought I was Queen Victoria?"

"Slim's shorter; two words was just too long for soldiers like us who don't even got common sense to guide us." Muck said with a wink, and Emilia found herself smiling in response. A pair of shouting men, from Dog Company, caught their temporary attention, and when she turned back to the two men beside her, Emilia's smile had faded.

"Look… in complete honesty, I had every intention of telling Captain Sobel what I saw that day. It would have been unprofessional of me not to," Luz looked vaguely disillusioned, but Muck remained unchanged after the confession.

"But, you didn't." The Sergeant said, plainly.

"No, I—"

"Why didn't you?"

"I…" Emilia shifted uncomfortably in the barstool, unwilling to reveal her own petty reasons behind withholding the truth about their practical joke. It was for no other reason than her own distaste with her behaviour, and the slight hesitation that Muck and Luz would have seen no error in what it was that Sobel had said, despite the fact that it was his very, misogynistic behaviour that saved them from getting caught in the first place.

There was, too, the fact that it had nothing to do with her own sympathies to the men, but to herself instead. "I don't see why that's relevant. The fact that he doesn't know about it should be good enough for you."

Muck shook his head, "Nah. You know what I think, Luz?"

"What do you think, Skip?"

"I think that Slim, here, has got a soft spot for us Easy boys, is what I think."

Luz flashed a lopsided grin. "I think you may be right."

"I wouldn't bet on it, boys." She stood up, giving an over exaggerated sigh of irritation before finishing of the whiskey. While the three had been exchanging words, Emilia noticed a gap in the crowd, and through it the open door leading out into the fresh air looked all too inviting to ignore.

"Now, if you'll excuse me…" She departed for the door, leaving the two men with a genuine smile. With the conversation they'd had, she figured that she'd been social enough for one evening, and present at the celebration long enough – Sink had yet to give any speech or toast, but she doubted her absence would be noted. Besides, there were reports that needed finishing and an analysis on recent transmissions she'd offered to complete before the next day. But, any hope of sneaking out unnoticed had been effectively diminished when another trooper stepped in front of her, successfully cutting off her path to freedom.

"Oh, for heaven's sake." She sighed, impatient.

"Ma'am?" The man greeted, and she recognised him immediately as one of the platoon leaders in D-company – his name, however, was lost on her. For a moment she wondered if Muck had been right; perhaps she did favour Easy Company. The bars on his arm gave her a title, in the least.

"Lieutenant. Forgive my frank behaviour, but I'm really not in the mood to drink or dance with anyone at the moment—"

"I wasn't."

"I'm sorry?"

"I wasn't asking you to dance," he clarified, looking unimpressed and somewhat amused by the misunderstanding. "Although, it's only fitting for such an assumption to be made by someone so rude to strangers. Colonel Sink asked me to send you over to his table, he wants to speak with you."

The lieutenant's dark eyes held her gaze for a moment longer before he, too, decided to leave the pub, and she was rendered effectively speechless—though, Emilia certainly couldn't deny that she deserved the discomfort suddenly dealt her way. In her youth, she so often found herself in like situations due to the hasty nature of her assumptions, just as the quote by Oscar Wilde went_: "When you assume, you make an ass out of u and me." _Though, in that circumstance, she felt as though she were entirely the ass.

It was in that moment that one of the Easy Company troopers passed her, and Emilia reached out immediately to grab him by his arm – Bull Randleman, she saw upon seeing his face. "Who was that? The man that just walked out?"

Seemingly caught off-guard by her sudden question, the staff sergeant took a moment to process what the agent had asked in the first place. He followed her gesture towards the door, though, and gave a low whistle once the recognition had come to mind. "Oh, that's Sparky—or, uh, Lieutenant Speirs, D-company. One helluva soldier, if I've ever seen one. Ma'am." He smiled kindly at the woman before continuing on his own way.

Emilia remained still for a few more seconds, looking towards the open door on the other end of the room with an uncomfortable amount of mortification at the exchange she'd just had with Speirs. 'Rude', he had called her, and truthfully speaking it was a slap in the face. Emilia did not want to be perceived as such, for her behaviour with the soldiers thus far was out of respect and professionalism and she didn't want that to be confused with callousness. She opted not to think of it much longer, as she walked towards Colonel Sink, deciding that it would be impossible, after all, for her to be well-liked by all the men in the airborne.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" She approached the table, smiling courteously as all the men that were sitting round stood at her arrival.

"Rösner, yes. Excuse me a moment," He nodded at his companions, clapping one of them on the soldier as he moved towards Emilia. His hand rested on her back, and the Colonel lead her to one of the secluded rooms in the back of the establishment, where she could only assume he'd wish to discuss something private. "Having a good time so far, Agent?"

"Yes, sir, a very good time. I was on my way out, though, just a bit tired…" She turned to look over her shoulder as he closed the door to the room – a study, from the looks of it; it was strange, to go from the loud environment to one so calm. "The Lieutenant said you wanted to speak with me? Is there a problem?"

"We're taking a risk with you here," Colonel Sink's voice cut through the stiff air, a stack of paper hitting the desk followed his words. The Colonel leaned against the edge of the desk, motioning for Emilia to sit down in one of the chairs, which she complied to however hesitantly. "I do _not_ take kindly to being disappointed."

"I understand completely, sir, and I don't plan on disappointing anyone during this assignment." Emilia fought hard to keep her voice level, keeping any confusion from her tone, but she doubted her attempt was successful. "I'm sorry, but I'm not quite sure as to why we're having this conversation." This seemed the kind of discussion that would have been better had the week prior, when she'd first arrived.

"I like to know the people I work with, Agent. Not just the men that will be fighting in this war, but the people that work behind the scenes, too, and the people that operate in the more grey areas of this game. I need to know who I can and cannot trust." He regarded a sheet of paper on the desk, and Emilia was stricken with the sudden realisation that this meeting had been planned beforehand. "I read your file, of course, and put in some inquiries about you."

"Inquiries, sir?" She repeated, tilting her head to the side. There was nothing unsatisfactory in her files, as far as she knew. Otherwise Emilia doubted she would be there at all. "I'm not following."

The Colonel sighed, and rounded the desk to sit in the chair. Emilia was glad for it – she never much liked sitting while a man stood before her, it made her feel inferior. He cleared his throat, regarding the paper for a moment before speaking in turn.

"I know what happened Poland, Agent Rösner."

Emilia's heart sunk at the words, and in no less than a heartbeat it felt as though all the air in the room had vanished completely. Despite the grasp his words had taken on her heart, the woman kept her resolve, though it took most of her willpower to do so.

"What of it, Colonel?" She spoke; her voice cool and bland, her eyes cold.

"Vengeance is what starts wars in the first place, Miss Rösner," he spoke levelly, eyes searching hers for an emotional response she would not give. "You would do well not to bring your personal vendettas with you."

"With all due respect, sir, you're wrong." She stood up, "Vengeance is what ends them."


End file.
